


The Safest Place

by cruisedirector, Dementordelta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Castles, Community: snape_potter, First Time, Geographical Isolation, Kinks, M/M, Magical Accidents, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Deathly Hallows, Protectiveness, Romance, Severus Snape Lives, Snarry Swap, Watersports, golden showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementordelta/pseuds/Dementordelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape had no idea where the spell he used to escape from the Dark Lord would take him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Safest Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keppiehed](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=keppiehed).



> Our Snarry Swap recipient, keppiehed, wanted watersports. We tried to oblige. ;) Thanks to Celandine for beta. (If you don't know what "watersports" means, do yourself a favor and look it up before complaining to us that it's the focus of the story.)

Harry Potter could not honestly say that he fell in love with Ardvreck Castle the moment he first saw it.

“But --” he began, staring at the brochure the land agent had given him. There was a sharply etched photo on the outside, showing a rugged seacoast -- Scotland, Harry knew -- with white-tipped waves that had molded the coastline for untold centuries.

“But --” he tried, tilting the photo to see if it would move in the way he had to admit he expected. Photos that stayed stationary as this one did seemed odd to him now.

The castle that clung to the craggy cliff was little more than an immense pile of stones, broken and exposed to the elements. From the looks of things, there had been a lot of elements.

“Location!” chirped the land agent. “Supremely isolated, perfectly private. No nosy fans snooping after you. It meets all of your requirements.”

“But--” Harry frowned, trying to make out anything that might resemble a room in the jumble of weathered stones. He could sort of make out a tower, and that odd jag along one edge might once have been a window.

Then he opened the brochure. The same photo was repeated inside, but as soon as the cover lifted away, the photo started to change. Weathered stones became smooth, piling up into orderly patterns as if set by invisible hands. Towers formed around a graceful keep, along with crenellated walkways sweeping away from the massive wooden gate. Frantic if invisible hands dug a moat and even placed little lily pads in clusters around the edges.

The next page showed carpets being laid and modern plumbing being installed, as well as beautiful views from window after window. From one tower, the sea stretched out endlessly; from the other, the rocky Scottish hills. The photo even tilted to show sheep dotting the hill.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” the land agent said, as if reading his mind, now managing to look both perky and smug.

“Yes,” Harry agreed, nodding. The last photo in the brochure was a full aerial view of the moat, with a tentacle breaking the surface, waving farewell. “When can we see it?”

Harry wasn’t sure if it was his tiresomely exalted status in the Wizarding World or his Gringott’s balance that made the transaction so easy. He just knew that he was as close to being in love with a house -- castle -- as he’d ever been. From the moment he took possession of the key, a heavy, old-fashioned thing about eight inches long, he’d felt right, like he belonged to this place in a way he’d never felt in the house in London and especially never his aunt and uncle’s house.

This place, with its stone staircases, arched windows and even its draughty halls, made him feel more like he was back at Hogwarts, the only place he’d ever felt completely safe.

Now that he had the privacy he had craved, however, Harry found himself missing his friends. He wondered whether it was really so different from Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Of course, Ardvreck didn’t have the same unhappy memories connected with it, though it had a gloomy history of its own: the Marquis of Montrose had taken refuge here and been betrayed for a reward. Harry had been warned that even Muggles sometimes saw his ghost prowling the ruins, which were the only part of Ardvreck visible to the rare non-magical people who visited the remote, swampy shores of Loch Assynt.

It wasn’t that Harry wished to return to the gloomy home that had once sheltered the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black; it was that he wished things could be as they had been with Ron and Hermione, and Neville and Luna, and Dean and Ginny, and everyone else while they had been young and fighting Voldemort had kept them all together. But all of them had quickly become busy going on with their own lives.

Happily for Harry, the interior of Ardvreck was as beautiful as the outside. Though Muggles saw only crumbling walls and mucky absent floors, behind the spells were well-lit rooms with large fireplaces and warm furniture, kept by a family of house elves who had lived on the property for centuries and reacted with horror to the suggestion that they could be free to live anywhere they chose. Harry had reluctantly agreed to accept their services in exchange for their full ownership of the vegetable garden and fields of sheep, paying them in Galleons for the food and the furnishings they provided.

He had already decided to sleep in the large room overlooking the loch, though he knew it had been intended as a hall to display trophies and tapestries, showing off the castle inside and out. It hadn’t been easy to maneuver the carved great bed from the much smaller bedchamber, but he’d finally managed to shrink it and put it where he wanted it. Tonight he intended to sleep in it.

Except that when he arrived, yawning, through the dressing room that had been converted into a modern loo with a tub that rivaled the one in the Prefects’ Bathroom at Hogwarts, someone was sleeping in his bed. Apparently the Chosen One wasn’t going to be permitted a single night’s peace.

“Just who do you think...” he began, striding over to the bed and pulling out his wand before yanking down the heavy coverlet, expecting some local prankster who’d discovered that he had bought the property. The castle was warded sufficiently that no local vampire or werewolf trying to evade the Ministry could have sneaked in, but someone who’d worked in the castle previously might have known how to work around the spells...

If Harry’s eyes could be trusted, the man in the bed -- the _naked_ man in the bed -- appeared to be Severus Snape.

Obviously, this was wishful thinking. Or magic. Harry stepped closer, peering into Snape’s face. Asleep, he looked less fierce and unhappy. Harry couldn’t remember a time when Snape had looked truly happy to him, not even when Slytherin was winning at Quidditch. Not even in the memories that Harry had kept, though he no longer had a Pensieve to see them.

No one knew how Harry had felt, watching those memories, so no one should have been able to guess how sending Snape here would unsettle him. Whatever trick this was, it might as easily be a prank by a friend as a threat from an enemy. “ _Finite incantatem_ ,” Harry said as calmly as he could, aiming his wand at the sleeping form.

Nothing happened. All right, then, it wasn’t a charm altering the man’s appearance. Leaning closer, Harry inspected him. The outlines of the Dark Mark were visible on the forearm resting against a pillow, and on the throat, two faded scars suggested an attack by a fanged animal...long ago, faded, no longer affecting the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest as he breathed.

Would Polyjuice work from a dead man’s hair? Harry wasn’t certain. He tried the spell he’d heard Snape use to reveal the secrets of the Marauder’s Map, but there was no change in the appearance of the man in his bed.

Harry had brought a few emergency supplies to the castle with him, and he could think of one that would quickly let him learn the truth right from the source. Digging into his luggage, he found the small collection of potions he had nicked from Slughorn’s pantry and removed the vial he sought. Pouring a few drops of Veritaserum into the man’s mouth had the immediate effect of waking him. Harry watched him swallow.

“Good evening, professor,” he said calmly.

“Potter! What are you doing in my bedroom?” sputtered Snape. He tried to yank the covers up, but Harry sat down on the side of the bed, trapping the blankets beneath him.

“ _Your_ bedroom? This is my castle, so this is _my_ bedroom,” Harry replied. “I'm not sure what _you're_ doing here. Or even how you’re alive.” He crossed his arms, awaiting the explanation that Veritaserum would provide.

Snape looked around as if realizing for the first time that he wasn’t wherever he had expected to be. “Alive,” he said slowly, looking surprised. “I was in the Shrieking Shack...I can’t recall how I got here. Only that I used the spell to take me to the safest place.”

Was it possible to build up an immunity to Veritaserum? Harry had never heard of such a thing. Snape would probably know, but this probably wasn’t the real Snape. “You don't look too bad,” he said as mildly as he could. “Just mussed and sleepy. Not like you got killed weeks ago by a giant cursed snake.” He glanced down Snape’s naked body and was surprised to see Snape’s cock twitch when he looked at it. Even more surprisingly, Harry’s own cock perked up in response. He was very glad Snape couldn’t see beneath his dressing gown.

Snape flushed and shifted, attempting to turn his back on Harry and work the covers up. “Did you say this is your castle?” he demanded.

“I bought it to get away from it all. It's Unplottable, so I have no idea how you’d have found it. Though if you’ve really been here all this time, at least I know why no one ever found your body.” Harry crossed his arms as if expecting a reply. “Exactly how long have you been here?”

“I don’t remember anything between the room going dark in the Shrieking Shack and when you woke me a few moments ago,” Snape replied irritably. Maybe the Veritaserum was working, but none of this was making sense. “I gave you my memories. I had hoped you would be clever enough to figure out what came next, though you’ve given me little enough reason to expect that of you. Perhaps you know what happened to my clothes?”

“No idea. You were naked when I found you.” There was no question that Harry’s cock liked that idea. He was _very_ glad Snape couldn’t see it.

“Then give me that blanket! What if someone sees us like this?”

“It’d be their own fault for breaking and entering. Like you must have done.”

“Why would I wish to break into your castle? I have no idea what I’m doing here. I suspect it’s some plot on your part, Potter!” That really did sound exactly like Snape, and Harry had no reason to doubt the Veritaserum’s effectiveness. “Where is my wand?”

“Voldemort took it...”

“Don’t say his name!”

“It’s all right, he’s dead.” Snape looked so shocked at this that he forgot to be embarrassed about being naked. He sat up, staring at Harry, who continued, “I did figure some things out from your memories. Voldemort used the Killing Curse on me, but the wand never worked properly for him, even after he killed you for it. I survived, he tried to curse me again, I used Expelliarmus, the spell bounced back and killed him. Most of the Death Eaters died in the battle. The war ended. And here we are. Got any explanation?”

Snape had opened his mouth as if he intended to shout at Harry some more, but for once he closed it. He put his hand on his throat, touching the two faded spots marking the place where Nagini had delivered the fatal bite. “I took a potion,” he said softly. “I had a single drop of the Elixir of Life -- Dumbledore had saved it when he convinced Flamel to destroy that bloody Stone. His portrait told me where to find it.”

It made Harry absurdly happy to know that Dumbledore had not left Snape to die, even though that was what Harry himself had done, leaving Snape in the Shrieking Shack with hardly a second thought. He had had good reason, but he had also never forgiven himself, and he had never been more grateful to Dumbledore. Clearing his throat a bit, he said, “That’s how you survived, then. But I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.”

“The spell is _Cautemunio_ ,” Snape explained. “But I have never heard of it working in this manner. Usually it moves a person only a short distance from the point of a weapon or the trajectory of a spell.”

“Looks like it took you away from all your enemies. I wonder why it also took away your clothes.”

Snape’s pale skin flushed again. Between his bent legs, Harry could see that he was still hard. “Do you have a robe?” Snape asked pointedly.

“Perhaps there’s some reason it’s safer for you to be naked.”

“Potter!” If Harry had had any doubt that this was really Snape, that roar would have been enough to convince him. Grinning, he got to his feet, stretching languidly, tugging the blanket completely off the bed in the process. “You’re making it worse!”

“I’m making what worse?” asked Harry as innocently as possible. “Your embarrassment or your stiffy?”

If Snape had had a wand, Harry was sure he’d have been cursed for that, but Snape merely curled in on himself. “Don’t tell me a wizard your age never wakes with an erection,” he snapped.

“All the time, really.” Harry watched Snape closely. He thought he heard Snape whimper. “I figured you were just recovering. I mean, I've had an erection since I found you here.”

He had expected Snape to be even more discomfited by that revelation, but Snape actually looked relieved. “Ah. Have I interrupted some tryst? Feel free to leave me alone and attend to your lover.”

“Not likely. I was all by myself in this castle before you turned up,” Harry told him.

“No bevy of young witches waiting attendance on the Chosen One?”

Snape sounded smug. Harry wondered whether to retort in kind and brag about all the mail he got from witches who were dying to date the Chosen One. He knew Snape would know it was all nonsense, though. “If they'd picked the Chosen One for his looks, it'd have been Diggory, or, Merlin help us, Malfoy. I’m not really the type.” He walked to the closet and took out a robe -- it was going to be too small for Snape, but that wasn’t really Harry’s problem. Taking a breath, he said aloud something he’d only recently been admitting to himself. “I think I’ve got over trying to date girls.”

Considering that Snape had been in Harry’s memories and seen his disastrous early attempts at dating, Harry doubted that this would come as any surprise. At least Snape didn’t look smug about that, too. “No bevy of handsome young men, then?” Snape asked, sounding a bit sour.

Maybe Snape liked men, too -- that would explain the reclusiveness, particularly in someone of Snape’s generation who’d grown up around Muggles. Aunt Petunia had been more suspicious of queers than wizards. “Young's not really my type,” Harry said, shrugging as he walked back toward the bed. “Is it yours?”

“Men who look like I do are not permitted the luxury of a _type_ ,” Snape muttered, then glared as if he knew Harry had coerced the information from him. The Veritaserum was probably wearing off already. “Not that my intimate affairs are any of your business. Did you believe that you could force personal details from me while keeping me naked in your room?”

“I’m not keeping you anywhere. You can get up and leave whenever you want.” He let the robe drop in a pool of silk onto the bed.

“If you return my wand, I shall. There must be someplace safer than this,” huffed Snape, picking up the robe and struggling to get his arms into the sleeves without exposing himself. Even when belted, the robe barely covered his groin. Harry briefly considered a spell to make it longer, then decided he liked it the way it was.

“I told you, I haven't got your wand. I don't have the faintest idea where it is.” That was true enough; though Harry knew full well that the Elder Wand was safely entombed, he didn’t have a clue where to find Snape’s original wand, the wand that had killed Dumbledore. “If I'd wanted to curse you, don't you think I'd have done it the minute I saw you asleep in my bed? I don’t know why you’re here, or even if you’re real. I tried _Finite Incantatem_ to see if you were a trick, and I made sure you weren’t a Polyjuiced double. Maybe you’re here because I looked and looked for you when no one could find you in the Shrieking Shack.”

“Why would you look for me? I thought you'd rejoice at my death.” Snape looked taken aback.

Was Snape serious? Even with the Veritaserum wearing off, Harry thought that he was. “Why would I have rejoiced? You saved everyone. Was all that stuff in your memories fake?”

“You of all people should know that memories cannot be faked,” Snape said crossly. “Though I had to give them to you quickly. I may not have been in complete control over what you saw.”

“I didn’t see you hating me any more than usual,” Harry assured him. “And I did see enough to know that I owe you my arse.” He paused, studying Snape in the too-small robe. “Have you come to collect on the debt?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he made an attempt to tug the robe down. “You should not say such things, even in jest! Wizarding debts have a powerful magic all their own.” Harry already knew that -- he had been listening in Snape’s class, even if Snape hadn’t thought so. “Do not joke about debts between us. Surely the successful conclusion of the battle has wiped them clean. And I would not accept such a debt if you owed it to me.”

Harry slumped a bit. It had been worth a try, though he hadn’t really expected Snape to say otherwise. “Oh. Fine,” he sighed. “Will you accept tea?”

“Surely you don't want such a debt between us?” demanded Snape, who was still peering at him with eyes that had always seen too much. At least Harry couldn’t feel the disorientation that indicated the beginning of Legilimency. With a triumphant sneer, Snape added, “It almost sounded as if you were flirting with me.”

“Sorry if I excited you,” Harry shot back. “I thought maybe... Never mind.”

Snape sat up in the bed, his look more intense than during any Occlumency lesson. “I’m not embarrassed,” he stated, shifting, though there was no leeway in the robe. “Beyond being mortified by my prick.”

Harry tried not to react to Snape using the word “prick”; he was having a hard enough time focusing on surely the strangest conversation he’d ever had, and not just the strangest one with his professor.

“Tell me what you thought,” Snape insisted.

Frowning Harry leaned against the nightstand, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you mortified because it’s me, or because you aren’t gay?”

Snape looked exactly like he would if Harry had asked an inelegant question in class. “Mortified that you have seen me so...” He tensed and ground out, ”...vulnerable, when I am old and ugly and pathetic.”

Surely this was still Veritaserum talking. Harry frowned again, knowing he was staring now. “You aren’t that much older than me, not in wizard terms anyway, and I’ve never thought you were ugly or pathetic.” He pushed away from the nightstand and plopped down in the chair beside the bed, drawing his legs up. “Especially not pathetic.”

Snape looked a bit like Harry felt, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation between them but was unwilling, or unable, to let it go. At least Snape had the excuse of Veritaserum at work. “But I am not desirable, not in the way your lovers should be.” He didn’t look as abashed to be uttering this -- to Harry of all people -- as Harry felt he should. Apparently there were more things the Pensieve hadn’t showed him about Snape. “That’s why your flirting, if that’s what it is, confuses me.” He fiddled with the edges of the blanket, not looking the least bit pathetic. “Unless you’re simply randy.”

Snorting, Harry thought over the last few weeks -- the flurry of activity at finding this retreat and the utter disinterest he’d had in finding anyone to share his privacy with. “I’m not _simply_ randy.” He shifted his legs, wrapping his arms around them. “What is it you think I’m supposed to want?”

Snape made a face. “Nothing,” he said sharply, looking as though he was making a deliberate effort not to let his fingers fidget in the blanket again. “I mistook your meaning.” He looked like he was trying to appear polite, which, frankly, was a startling look on Snape’s features. “May I still have tea? And some clothes?”

Harry let his legs drop off the chair. “Wait,” he said, puzzled by the abrupt requests and the abrupt politeness. “Now, I’m confused. Of course I’m flirting with you.” It spoke of his lack of skills that Snape hadn’t recognized his efforts. He shrugged and slid to the edge of the chair, gripping the seat cushion. “You don’t sound interested, so I’ll get that tea.” They could both use it now, he thought, a bit mortified himself to realize that his prick hadn’t quite given up on the idea of flirting. He looked up.

Snape was leaning forward, peering at him. “There is no _of course_ about it! You’ve always hated me, so why would I think you had any interest in me beyond trying to get me out of your --” He looked around the bedroom but apparently decided on, “-- your castle?”

Exasperated -- apparently an emotion unknown to his cock -- Harry said, “Don’t you think I know enough magic to hex you out on your naked arse if I really hated you?” He turned away, shaking his head and Summoning the tea.

“Then why are you being kind to me?” Snape asked, sounding so plaintive that Harry looked back. The tea tray floated up through the door, rattling a bit as it swerved to clear the bedpost.

“It’s a conspiracy to throw you off balance and take advantage of you.” He directed the tray onto the bed. “Here’s the tea.”

Snape’s expression could have been at home in a classroom -- or a Death Eater meeting. “Very amusing, Potter.” He picked up the closest cup. “At least it doesn’t smell poisoned.”

Harry ignored the second cup for a moment. “Want me to prove that I don’t hate you?”

Snape looked suspicious -- well, he always looked a bit suspicious where Harry was concerned. “How would you do that?” he asked.

The entire conversation had left Harry feeling quite reckless...well, the conversation and the fact that Harry was pretty sure that Snape was still hard under the too-small robe. “I could kiss you,” he said as offhandedly as possible.

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he set down the cup. “Never try to bluff a Slytherin,” he retorted. “What if I were to call your bluff and say yes?”

“Then I’d...” Oh fuck, this was ludicrous, yet Harry found he couldn’t take his eyes off Snape’s mouth. He couldn’t believe that after all this time, Snape didn’t know that Gryffindors weren’t so easy to bluff, either. Leaning out of his chair, he planted a hand on the mattress and kissed Snape on the lips.

Snape’s eyes widened, but he didn’t do anything that could be construed as resisting or pulling away. “Would you,” he murmured when Harry paused to breathe.

“Told you.” It was, ridiculously, one of the better kisses Harry had ever had, and left Harry’s mouth tingling, even though Snape had hardly been participating.

“Your conspiracy is working,” Snape announced. “I am sufficiently off-balance to kiss you back.” And he did, with a hand around Harry’s neck to keep him there in case Harry had had any plans of leaving. No question -- it was definitely one of the best and possibly _the_ very best kiss Harry had ever had. That definitely helped sort out the question of whether Harry was gay, not to mention the same question about Snape.

“Mmmmm, yes, it's a very good plan,” Harry said when they finally moved apart.

“Did your plan include my having an erection? Because this is doing nothing to cause mine to abate,” Snape muttered, flushing a bit.

“I told you, I've had an erection since I found you.”

Again Snape narrowed his eyes. Harry could no longer tell whether the expression signified suspicion or defiance. “I think you shall have to prove that as well.”

“Fine,” Harry said, trying to put bravado in his voice even if he didn’t feel it. “Why don’t you put your hand right on...” Snape didn’t need any further instructions. “Oh fuck!”

“I did tell you never to bluff a Slytherin, Potter,” Snape whispered, squeezing a bit. Harry’s cock throbbed hard against his fingers.

“What makes you think I'm ohhhfuck bluffing?”

“You must be bluffing!” Snape appeared incredulous, though he didn’t move his hand away. “You could never want me for your lover!”

Apparently Snape wasn’t bluffing -- not about being interested if Harry could prove that he was, at least. Harry took a deep breath. “What do I have to kiss to prove that I do?”

The low sound that escaped from Snape’s nose could only be described as a moan, though Snape still looked like he didn’t quite believe any of this was happening. “I think you know,” he hissed.

“All right,” said Harry, faking a confidence he didn’t feel. He reached to tug aside the flap on the tiny robe he’d given Snape. He’d never been this close to a naked man with an erection in his life, nor had he ever admitted to himself how much he’d wanted it to be _this_ man of all people. Bending lower, he kissed the head of Snape’s cock, which twitched against his lips.

“Oh!” Snape gasped. “You may not be bluffing after all!”

“Mmm, no, not bluffing,” agreed Harry. Now that he had his mouth on Snape’s cock, he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to taste it. Salty, and a bit bitter right in the slit...

“Potter!” groaned Snape. “I won't be able to control myself if you do that!”

This was the closest thing to a compliment Snape had ever given Harry. He smiled to himself, becoming bolder with his mouth. “Mmm,” he said between licks. “I don’t think you’re supposed to control yourself during a blow job.” Then he wrapped his lips over his teeth and let his mouth descend over the head of Snape’s cock, sucking.

Snape made a sound that was very like a wail. “Sounds as though you think you're quite the expert on delivering such pleasure!”

That sounded more like a typical Snape accusation of arrogance. Harry reminded himself that although he’d never actually done this before, Snape very likely had. “Isn't it good enough?” he asked, using his hand on the base of Snape’s cock.

“Bloody hell, can't you tell for yourself?” grunted Snape, thrusting a bit into Harry’s mouth. Harry had to swallow to avoid gagging -- he hadn’t been expecting that -- but when he angled his head a bit, he found that he could take in more of Snape’s fairly large cock. “Fuck!” Snape roared. “I don't want to disgrace myself and come too soon -- I want to enjoy the only blow job I'm likely to get in your bed.”

All right, so Snape _was_ enjoying it. Harry twisted his hand a bit the way he would have on his own cock when he was wanking and slid his mouth back up. “You wouldn't let me do this again?” he purred, licking the head of Snape’s cock.

“Never dreamed you'd want to.” Snape’s fingers knotted in Harry’s hair as Harry moved his mouth up and down, which he took as another good sigh. “Merlin, yes, just like that!”

Harry’s cock was throbbing, demanding some attention of its own, but Harry knew he couldn’t spare the concentration to touch himself and suck Snape off at the same time. He kept his focus on what his mouth was doing and which ways of moving his tongue made Snape groan.

“Potter,” panted Snape. “I truly won't be able to help ejaculating.” Harry wondered why Snape thought that might be a problem. He also wondered why Snape saying _ejaculating_ made him so hard he thought he might be capable of ejaculating just from the word. He twisted his hand again, sucking the head of Snape’s cock enthusiastically, and felt the shudder that went through Snape. A few more bobs of his head, and Snape cried out, “Potter, fuck!” just as Harry felt his mouth fill with hot, bitter fluid.

Despite having been actively working for this very end, Harry coughed a bit, gulping again, and wiped the side of his mouth, only slowly releasing Snape’s cock. He hadn’t realized there would be so much. He hoped Snape wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t swallowed it all.

Snape fell back against the pillows, panting. The robe had come open and Harry could see a flush of sweat on his chest, spreading over his collarbones. “You definitely weren’t bluffing,” Snape said, watching Harry with something on any other human face would have looked nervous, but on Snape managed to look a bit speculative as well.

Harry’s answering grin was a bit speculative too, but probably not for the same reason. “Are you sorry?”

Snape shook his head. “Are you?”

That was the simplest question among all that had been posed to Harry tonight. “Not at all.” He was still leaning on the mattress, half on and half off the bed, as Snape tugged on the blanket.

“You’re still quite...aroused,” Snape said, covering a bit more of his legs, but not his cock, which had begun to soften.

Harry stayed put on the blanket in case Snape had any ideas about covering back up. “Did you think I was faking it?”

Taking a long breath, Snape pulled on the blanket again but Harry didn’t budge. “May I --” Harry would have missed the little flicker of his eyes as they dropped toward Harry’s lap, then quickly away. Then Snape was shaking his head. “No, not at all. I’m just surprised that I can arouse you.”

 _That_ didn’t sound like he was going to start demanding his clothes anytime soon, so Harry slid completely over onto the bed. When their legs brushed, he whimpered softly. “You’ve aroused me for a long time, I think,” he explained. “I just didn’t know what it was, exactly.”

That little gaze was back, just a flicker along Harry’s legs and between them, then away as if afraid to be caught looking. Harry responded by shifting over closer, letting his legs fall open.

Snape’s fingers brushed along Harry’s leg and up over the bulge in his pyjama bottoms. “Do you know now?”

Still whimpering, Harry pushed up against his hand. “Oh God, yes!”

“Do you --” Snape might have forgotten what he was going to say, or Harry did, because Snape’s fingers were tracing the shape of his balls beneath the thin flannel. “Would you let me --”

“Yes!”

“-- reciprocate?” Snape finished.

Harry nodded eagerly, not knowing whether to spread himself out or not move to see where Snape’s fingers would touch next. “Yes,” he said again, “if you want. I mean you don’t have to, just because I did.”

Snape, it seemed, did want, to judge from the way he bent over Harry’s lap, tugging down the loose sleep pants while Harry shifted up to let him drag them off. He leaned back just as Snape said, “I want very much,” in a voice almost too low to hear except they were words Harry really wanted to hear as he felt Snape’s mouth touch the head of his cock.

He was trembling as Snape’s lips closed around him. Seeking purchase, Harry’s fingers pushed into the loose black hair falling around Snape’s shoulders, probably pulling strands out. “Sorry!” he yelped, nearly releasing the handful of hair when the soft shake of Snape’s head kept his hand in place. Harry relaxed back on the bed, knees bracketing Snape’s shoulders. “Not -- ohhh -- going to last long!”

Fingers stroked the underside of his prick as Snape rubbed his mouth around the soft tip several times before he said, “Neither did I.”

It was unbearably hot to hear Snape talking about coming in Harry’s mouth while sucking Harry’s cock. Harry’s fingers tightened the strands of hair in his fist as he moaned helplessly. “Oh God, oh God!”

The urgency in his voice seemed to inspire Snape, his mouth sliding all the way down. Harry could feel the tip of his nose in the curls clustered around the base, a feat Harry himself had not managed with Snape’s longer, thicker cock. When Snape’s mouth lifted, he let his fingers trail along as well, stroking parts of Harry’s cock that had never before felt so intensely sensitive. His cock must have been waiting for the pads of Snape’s fingers to press into him, ohhhh, just like that. “Just like that!” he cried out, fingers tightening around Snape’s hair as that mouth moved along him again and again making Harry feel hard and huge and -- ”Oh God, I’m --”

“Mmmmm,” came the acknowledgement in the form of a purr, Snape’s tongue working separately from his lips, caressing and sucking and --

“Fuck!” Harry cried out again, thrusting helplessly as he arched, taking pleasure in the feeling of Snape’s hair in his fist, in the sweat on their skin, and most of all in the heavy outpouring of his cock into Snape’s mouth.

He eyes had closed tightly, though he’d wanted to watch. He opened them and looked down now. Snape’s mouth was still holding Harry’s cock, though not moving, as if he was savoring the moment exactly as Harry was. Then he slid back, tongue curling around, the last to withdraw, and Harry twitched weakly around it.

Harry nearly cried out again when Snape looked up at him, the satisfaction was so plain there, mixed with something achingly possessive that made Harry tremble again. “I --” Harry realized he was still panting, though he hadn’t been aware of it until he tried to speak. “I didn’t mean to pull your hair out.” He got his fingers loose, letting go of the strands, which had been clean like the rest of Snape when he appeared.

“My hair was the last thing I was thinking about.” He gave Harry’s cock one more swipe before releasing it completely, then gave his head a negligent shake. To Harry the gesture was so unselfconscious that it looked completely sexy and intimate.

“Was it...was it okay? For you I mean.”

Snape’s head rested along Harry’s thigh. There was a funny vibration, and Harry realized that Snape was purring a bit, or at least humming. “Which part, the sucking or the being sucked?”

The purring returned. Harry stroked through Snape’s hair again. “Both, I suppose.”

“Yes. Top marks on both counts. You?”

“Same.”

Harry slid his hand more deeply into Snape’s hair and was rewarded with a small hum of pleasure. “I never imagined you would welcome such attentions from me,” Snape murmured, eyes falling shut.

Emboldened, Harry leaned over and nuzzled his hair a bit, sliding his fingers across back of Snape’s neck. “I never imagined you'd let me,” he confessed.

Snape’s eyes fluttered open, looking at Harry. “I would let you do more than this.” With a happy whimper, Harry kissed the side of his mouth. He was about to say that he’d let Snape do rather more, too, when Snape added, “But only for as long as you want me alone. I won't share you with anyone else.”

That was the easiest condition Harry had ever heard. He laughed a bit. “I won't either -- share, I mean. It's not like there's anyone else for me. Is there for you?”

Snape snorted a bit. “There hasn't been anyone else for me in a long time. However, I don't think you'll have any lack of partners.”

“There hasn't been anyone else for me ever, really.” Harry felt his face redden a bit as Snape frowned, looking at him. “I mean, there were a couple of girls I snogged a few times, but that's all.”

“Yet you said you were flirting with me.” Harry nodded at Snape’s look of concern. “Why? I'm, much older and ug- not attractive. And for many years, you hated me.”

“I didn't hate you.” Shaking his head, Harry got up on an elbow. “I thought I did, when I thought you were working for you-know-who, but even then it took so much work to hate you that hate wasn't really what it was.”

Snape shifted up as well, still looking concerned. “What was it?”

“I don’t know.” The heat in Harry’s face had not diminished. “Um, obsession?”

“That doesn’t sound very healthy.” Snape stroked a curious finger over Harry’s pink face. “Though I suppose you did not have the healthiest of upbringings. Do you still feel...obsessed?”

With a small laugh, Harry leaned up and kissed him. “Maybe not the same way, exactly. But could that be why your spell brought you here?” He touched the spot on Snape’s throat where two pale marks left the faintest reminder of an attack that Harry had been sure had been fatal. “You must have taken some kind of antidote, too.”

“I used several spells. And I took potions regularly in case of such an attack. Anti-venins, elixirs to make me appear not to breathe should I fall unconscious, stasis ingredients...”

“You never taught us any of those things in your class. They weren’t in your book, either.”

Snape smirked triumphantly. “I’m afraid they were rather more advanced. And the ingredients are often difficult to obtain. Lynx dander, spring gentian flowers, werewolf urine --”

“You drank piss!” Harry didn’t know which shocked him more, Snape’s admission or the fact that his own cock had perked up noticeably when Snape said it.

“Not directly from a werewolf,” Snape amended. “I suppose it might work in an emergency, but the risks might outweigh the benefits.”

“Well, it looks like whatever you did worked.” Abruptly Harry realized that other than offering Snape some tea, he’d done very little to aid Snape’s recovery. “Oh fuck -- you must be hungry. I have house elves -- they've lived in this castle for generations and wouldn't leave even when I told them they were free and tried to give them clothes, so I told them they could have anything they wanted from the garden and they’ve been cleaning up after me ever since. Let me go ask them to bring something up.”

Flushing a bit, Snape dragged the blanket back over his crotch. “Might I have a longer robe, perhaps? I am no longer young and have never been considered attractive.”

Snape really needed to stop saying that, thought Harry, leaning back down to nuzzle the hair on his chest. “So you're saying I'm all you think you could get? I'd be just a desperation fuck for you?”

Beneath the blanket, Snape’s cock stirred. “You can have your choice of lovers,” he said, not looking at Harry. “When a naked man with an erection appears in your bed, you might do things with him you wouldn't normally do.”

“I wouldn’t be doing this with any random naked man who turned up in my bed,” said Harry, flicking his tongue over a nipple. For some reason, he was still thinking about Snape drinking piss, and thinking about how Snape would look pissing, which was even worse -- he hoped Snape wasn’t planning on using Legilimency on him any time soon. “I mean, people offer to fuck the Chosen One. Strangers write me letters...the Ministry forwards them to me. Hermione read some of them and was scandalized. Mostly it makes me want to stay a virgin. You're the only one I ever wanted to get naked with.”

“Before or after I ended up here in your bed?” Snape was watching Harry as he moved his mouth and tongue over to the other nipple. “Did you know I was attracted to you?”

That was sufficient distraction to make Harry raise his head. “Absolutely not. I thought you wouldn’t be, since I look like my dad.”

Though he made a slight face at this mention of James Potter, Snape ran a hand over Harry’s cheek. “Not so much any more. Perhaps not for a long time. As you said, your upbringing has shaped who you are.”

Harry rubbed his face into the palm like a cat, purring a bit. “And I owe you my arse.”

“You don't owe me anything. I'm the one in your debt -- anyone else would have tossed me out,” Snape insisted.

“I owe you everything. I'll do anything you want, because that’s what I want.” With his arms around Snape’s neck, Harry turned onto his back, spreading himself slightly in offering.

Snape, as Harry hoped, followed him over, straddling him, legs brushing his. “Don’t give me such power,” he said, bending down for a kiss. There was power in this sort of touch too, Harry realized, kissing and touching, a sort of magic apart from any other.

“Why not?” asked Harry, gazing up at Snape’s mouth. “What will you do?” He drew a fingertip along his bottom lip then laid it against his own mouth, sucking it into his mouth. Snape’s eyes widened in appreciation and the arousal that hadn’t abated between them, strengthening with each kiss.

Snape groaned and kissed him again as if the images swirling around in his head needed expressing directly against Harry’s mouth. “Anything -- God! -- wicked, dirty things!” A moan against his mouth and Snape was licking the inside of his lower lip. “What if I wanted to feel that arse of your around my cock?” He turned his face and rubbed his chin over the backs of Harry’s fingers.

Harry shivered, watching this. “I already told you. I’d let you.” He undulated beneath Snape and Snape thrust against him, rocking them both too briefly.

“Even though I’d be your first lover? You could never choose another man to be your first.” His gaze found Harry’s again, dark and intent.

“I don’t want another man,” Harry said softly. “I want you.” The magic swirled around them as they kissed again, sealing some erotic pact.

A shudder ran through Snape. “I can’t resist you,” he moaned, almost as if he was trying to resist speaking aloud. “I know I should, but I can’t.”

Harry slid one hand behind Snape’s neck and dragged him down for another kiss. “Why should you? When I want you and I think you want me?” Snape’s erection pushed against Harry’s, both lying flat against Harry’s belly while they kissed.

“I do want you,” Snape admitted. His thumbs brushed Harry’s nipples. “More than I should. I should tell you to find someone who isn’t old or pathetic, but if you want me, I can’t tell you no.” He rubbed his mouth around Harry’s while he spoke.

Twisting, Harry pushed against Snape, legs wrapping around his. “Why do you keep saying you’re pathetic? What’s pathetic about you?”

Lifting, Snape spread his hand out over Harry’s belly, just above where their cocks lay. “I’ve lived my life catering to two men who --” He looked away, his hair brushing Harry’s shoulder as he turned. “-- who despised me. One of them killed me -- or as good as. I killed the other.” He looked unhappy when he looked back at Harry. “And I was horrid to you just because I could be.”

Harry went still, frowning up at him. In a gesture he would never have dared before, but now seemed perfectly natural, he cupped Snape’s chin and let his fingers stroke his cheek. “Dumbledore did not despise you. How can you think that?”

Color flooded the pale skin. “He did. I let him think I nursed a passion for your mother to cover my attraction to you.” He turned his cheek and brushed it over Harry’s fingers.

“He didn’t. I know he didn’t.” Harry bit his lip, but he felt certain. He’d learned a lot about Dumbledore -- and Snape -- in the past year, and he no longer saw either of them through the eyes of a child. “I saw your memories, and he never despised you.” He watched Snape rubbing his face against Harry’s own fingers. “Also, if it helps, I don’t think he bought that business that you cared about me only because of my mum.”

They were close, as close as two people could be, but Snape still managed to avoid meeting Harry’s eyes. “I was horrid to you to keep you away.”

Using the hand around Snape’s neck, Harry urged him down for the kiss they both needed. “I don’t care why you were horrid to me -- Umbridge was worse, and at least you never tried to kill me. You kept me alive. And safe, even from myself sometimes. Dumbledore knew that. Please tell me you don’t really think he despised you. He trusted you above everyone else, I think.”

Snape gave a nod and Harry’s heart gave a lurch as some burden they had both been carrying dissolved. “I served him as best I could. I loved him for what he was.”

Harry kept kissing him, sliding his legs against Snape’s. “He loved you too. He’d never have trusted me with you for so long otherwise.” Snape definitely didn’t feel as tense, his own legs moving back against Harry’s.

“I think he would never have imagined us doing this,” Snape said, smiling between kisses.

Harry smiled too, liking the way that felt against Snape’s mouth. “Oh, I bet he was a big old perv and imagined a lot of things!”

They were rocking together now, not frantic -- not yet -- letting their pricks set the pace. “I can imagine fucking you right here in this bed,” Snape growled.

That tone in his voice made Harry arch up, moaning. “I want you to! You know I do!”

“We need --” Snape gasped, looking around a bit desperately. “We need something to ease the way.” He looked back at Harry. “Do you have anything?”

Fortunately Harry did. Knowing he was going to be living alone, he’d made sure to stock his nightstand with things he never let the house elves see. Snape sighed in relief, shifting up to reach it. “There are of course spells, but being wandless --” He shrugged, running a finger down the side of the lube before sliding down between Harry’s legs.

Bending his legs up, Harry tried not to tremble. “You can teach them to me,” he replied, easily able to imagine the lessons required to learn them.

Sitting with one leg stretched out and one bent as Harry’s was, Snape kissed Harry’s upraised knee. There was a bit of fine stubble on his face, just enough to feel good in the wiry hair along Harry’s knee. “I will teach you anything you like. You’ll have no cause to be nervous with future lovers.”

A quiver went through Harry and he frowned. “Why are you talking about future lovers?” he asked, a bit crossly.

“I told you, I won't share you with anyone,” Snape repeated, rubbing his fingers around Harry’s balls. “But eventually you'll want someone your own age.”

Harry’s cock was twitching helplessly, but he kept scowling. “Can't you pretend even long enough to do this that maybe it will last?”

Snape sat back, staring at him. “You don't mean that,” he said.

“Why don't you believe anything I say?” demanded Harry.

“I don’t mean to suggest that you would lie,” Snape replied slowly. “But you are young and you can't possibly want --”

With a sigh, Harry put his feet back on the bed. “This _is_ just a desperation fuck for you,” he said. “You just want to take what you can get.”

Snape’s mouth dropped open. “Even I've had opportunities for desperation fucks, as you call them,” he snapped. “I don't need sex that badly. I want you, but I'm not fooling myself that you'll want me for long. Suppose it lasted long enough that I did not wish to let you go?”

The gloomy expression wasn’t making any sense to Harry. “Isn't that what people look for? To be with someone who wants to be with them and stay together and make each other happy?” he asked.

Snape shook his head. “I don't know,” he said bleakly. “I've never had the luxury of thinking I could have a future with anyone, let alone...you.”

“Neither did I.” Harry wriggled to sit up, following Snape to where he’d sat back on the covers. “I was pretty sure, best case scenario, that I'd die ridding the world of Voldemort, and that would be that.”

Snape actually looked contrite. He tugged on Harry’s hand to help him sit upright, then moved his legs apart to pull Harry close. “Neither of us deserved the fate for which we believed we were destined,” he muttered.

“That’s what I think.” Harry wrapped his arms around Snape, leaning his head on Snape’s shoulder. “But you keep telling me you're too old and pathetic, like you want to leave, when I just want you to stay with me and make love with me and stop talking about how you think I should want someone else.”

“I don’t want you to want anyone else.” Snape’s voice was low and possessive, and made Harry shiver, not altogether in anticipation. “I want what you say you want. More than anything. I've wanted it for longer than is strictly proper.”

Grinning a bit in relief, Harry leaned up for a kiss. “So have I. I wanted it for longer than I understood exactly what I wanted,” he confessed. “Then, for a while, I thought I must have something wrong with me for wanting it, but I got over that.”

Snape allowed a small smile to slip through. “I have never noticed anything inherently wrong with you, Mr. Potter -- wicked, perhaps.”

With a wide smile, Harry kissed him exuberantly. “I don't mean to be wicked, sir. You bring it out in me. Though we haven’t been very wicked yet...I’m very willing to learn.”

Easing him back onto the sheets, Snape slid over Harry. “I have much to teach you. And much pleasure to offer you.”

With that, Snape brought his knees together, rubbing his cock over Harry’s. With a small wail, Harry arched up against him. “Oh God! I don't know how much more pleasure I can take!”

“Keep rubbing against me like that, wicked boy,” Snape ordered breathlessly, rocking against Harry. “I don't believe I can last long enough to get my prick inside you.”

If Snape was going to say things like that, Harry didn’t see how he would ever last long enough for actual fucking. “Good, because I can't, either!” he moaned. Snape kissed him breathlessly, cock pushing against Harry’s. “I don't mean to be wicked, I just can't --” Harry couldn’t speak another word. With a mighty cry, he went rigid, erupting over Snape’s cock and belly.

For several seconds he couldn’t see, let alone look at Snape, though he felt the answering shudder go through him. “Yes, oh God, Harry!” he heard Snape cry, then a hard thrust against his belly, which was suddenly even wetter.

Oh fuck that was hot, to have Snape’s come pouring over his skin! “Feels better than anything!” Harry managed, still panting. Slowly Snape’s eyes opened and Harry found that he could focus on them. “You don't mind if we didn't make love?”

Snape let out an uneven chuckle. “You do have a lot to learn if you don't think we just did.”

“Well, I did, but I thought you'd tell me I had a lot to learn if I thought that was enough.” Harry sighed softly in relief.

Snape’s mouth rubbed over his. “I told you -- I don't think I'll ever get enough of you.”

Harry was pretty sure he’d remember if Snape had told him _that_ , but he decided he really didn’t want to quibble. “I don't ever want you to,” he said instead. “I don't want you to get bored and think I'm just like everyone else. In bed, I mean; you know I don’t care about the bloody Chosen One stuff.”

“You've already proven you aren't like anyone else.” Shifting, Snape stretched out beside him. Harry wondered whether good manners called for a cleaning spell, but he wasn’t quite ready to give up the sticky mess on his abdomen where he was marked with Snape’s seed. “Besides, you also might get bored -- or find me perverse. I don't have a wealth of experience. Not all of my past encounters were particularly pleasant.”

Probably that should have made Harry feel bad, but it came as something of a reprieve. “I'd be nervous if you'd slept with half the wizarding world,” he said lightly. “But go back to finding you perverse. Does that mean you’re into some, you know, kinky stuff?”

Snape snorted softly, letting his head rest on the pillow beside Harry’s. “Only in my imagination. It would give me great pleasure to teach you what I do know, and learn the rest with you.” Though he looked tired, he waited for Harry’s smile before continuing, “Lessons will commence promptly in the morning. Don't be late, Mr. Potter.”

“I'll be right here, unless I'm in the loo.”

Through his yawn, Harry heard Snape chuckle. “Perhaps I’ll come in with you.”

The words made Harry blush, mostly because they also made him want to wiggle against Snape and his cock had that funny aroused feeling again. “That sounds a bit kinky,” he said. “In fact, it sounds wicked.”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

Even without looking, Harry could tell that Snape was smirking. He shivered happily. “Promptly in the morning,” he repeated. “Promise me you won’t go anywhere before then, and tomorrow I promise I’ll feed you.”

“I’ll hold you to that...Harry.” Snape’s words were slurring. When Harry sighed happily and moved to rub his cheek against Snape’s chest, he found that Snape did not move away. Or perhaps Snape was already asleep, but as long as it was in Harry’s bed, it was perfect.

Harry woke up with the all too rare feeling that everything was the way it was supposed to be -- which in his short life, usually meant he only _thought_ he was awake but was still dreaming. For once, however, the world seemed to spinning the way he wanted. He took stock. He’d moved into a place with no bad memories and no bad magic. He’d managed to get moved in without his friends talking him out of it.

And... Harry stretched. There was something else. The happiest, most perfect dream. He’d saved Snape -- no, it was his dream, his dream lover should be called _Severus_. Severus had done a spell, some sort of desperate magic. A spell that had --

Snape shifted beside Harry, his eyes opening, coming into focus as they took in Harry’s features.

“Morning!” Harry chirped, knowing that this dream among all those he’d ever wished had somehow come true.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, not looking a bit stern with his hair fanning over Harry’s pillow. “I see you are eager for your lessons.”

Harry practically threw himself on top of him...never mind that they’d already been sleeping piled against each other. “Oh yes, sir, quite eager!”

Snape rubbed a finger along Harry’s bottom lip, watching it as he touched each corner of his mouth. “Shall we begin with some kissing practice?”

Harry had never noticed how long Snape’s lashes were; now he noticed how his pupils seemed to go dark when he was aroused. He noticed how strong the arm was that wrapped around him and pulled him down, how long his legs were when they were pushing against Harry’s. “I’m not total rubbish at that,” Harry said, relearning the basics -- the slow slide of lips, the little noises they both made when the kiss deepened.

Snape purred a bit, or at least that’s the way it sounded to Harry. “No, indeed, you are not, though in future you will confine your practice sessions to me.”

That sounded like an instruction that needed to be sealed with a kiss. “Absolutely,” Harry agreed, “You don’t get any other students though!”

Snape rolled his eyes, but since he was doing it while kissing the tip of Harry’s chin, it was more intriguing than chastising. “You are the only student I’ve ever desired.”

Harry couldn’t say why, but he believed this utterly. Snape wasn’t the type of man or teacher to let a casual remark develop into a flirtation or anything else with a student. He’d even admitted to Harry he’d been especially horrible to him to keep him at arm’s length.

“Good,” he moaned, tilting his face so Snape could continue that intriguing trail of kisses. “I want to keep it that way.” He was rubbing his face in Snape’s hair, nearly melting back into the pillows with each lick.

“I believe you may be ready for some advanced kissing,” Snape murmured, his mouth trailing over Harry’s collarbone.

“Anywhere, please,” Harry moaned, his entire body energized. “Anywhere you like!”

Snape, it seemed, liked just about everywhere. He guided Harry back against the sheets, straddling as he’d done last night, paying rather devout attention to Harry’s nipples, even brushing his mouth through the dusting of hair in between.

“This is --” Harry began, though he already knew he couldn’t think of a word good enough for how this felt, because it was Snape making him feel this way.

“Mmmm hmmm,” came the purr from a kiss that grazed Harry’s navel. Snape had slid further back on Harry’s legs, his own erection dragging down Harry’s body as he moved. “And if I kiss you here...” he said, flicking his tongue over the tip of Harry’s cock.

Frantically Harry tried to push closer to Snape’s mouth, already knowing he would earn himself only more teasing kisses. “You know!” he panted.

“Then I shall cover you with --” For a glorious moment Snape lowered his mouth around Harry’s cock, then, just as quickly, released it. “-- kisses.”

“Want...want to suck you too,” Harry moaned, through just the idea of having Snape’s cock in his mouth again made him nearly hard enough to undo all the teasing and bring a premature end to the lesson.

“Yes --” Snape agreed, though the way he said it was more of a hiss of breath against Harry’s prick. “That’s the perfect lesson for this morning.” He shifted, kicking some of the sheets away so he could stretch his legs back toward Harry’s head.

Harry dove toward it, even though it meant his own hips tilted and they both had to adjust. “Did I do all right yesterday?” he asked, sliding his fingers around the base and rubbing the soft tip over his lips.

Snape groaned. “Much better than all right!”

For a moment there were only soft, wet noises, and the vibration of little groans. “Good, because I like doing it,” Harry managed, feeling the pulse of Snape’s blood through his prick.

That got him another groan, longer this time. “Ohhh, yes, just like that,” Snape said before choosing something else to do with his mouth.

It was definitely the best lesson Snape had ever given, slow and precise, with no criticism when Harry tried to mimic Snape’s ability seemingly to take Harry’s entire cock down his throat and Harry ended up coughing a bit. “So big,” he said, embarrassed, not meaning to flatter, but he could tell from Snape’s purr around his cock that Snape approved of the statement. The cock in Harry’s mouth tasted hot and eager, dripping fluid less bitter than come and less salty than -- why was Harry still thinking about what Snape had said about drinking piss? That was completely perverted, especially with his cock so hard in Snape’s mouth.

“You are far better at this than you ever were at Potions,” Snape said from around his cock. “I suspect this will be a short lesson.”

Grinning, Harry replied, “But I told you, this feels so long!”

“You realize you don't have to flatter me? That l will take great delight in...” Snape’s mouth moved up and down, his fingers twisting a bit on Harry’s cock, making Harry cry out. “...mmm, sucking you?”

“Not trying to flatter,” Harry panted between licks, trying to move his hand like Snape’s. “Just trying to get you off!”

Snape’s hips were bucking, pushing deeper into Harry’s mouth. Harry found that if he tilted his head, it was easier to take more in. “You do seem truly dedicated to the task,” Snape muttered hoarsely. “In fact, with practice you may excel at it -- oh fuck, full marks!”

Harry hadn’t realized that last was meant as a warning until Snape cried out and shuddered, filling Harry’s mouth. Harry concentrated on swallowing it all -- he didn’t want Snape to be sorry for praising Harry -- which was sufficient distraction to keep his own cock from exploding, as he’d thought for a moment that it might. “I made you come,” he observed happily when at last he could move his mouth.

“You did apply yourself quite satisfactorily,” panted Snape. “But you still have a stiffy. I shall teach you what I know in the area of cock-sucking. As you can see, enthusiasm is a key element!”

Just hearing the words _cock-sucking_ from Snape’s mouth had Harry instantly ready to go off again. “Clearly your area of expertise,” he moaned, trying not to thrust too hard as Snape’s mouth moved up and down on his cock. “I can feel your enthusiasm!” Snape nodded -- or maybe he just bobbed his head again -- and Harry felt his balls tighten. “Oh God, my enthusiasm is going to -- ”

Harry interrupted himself with a loud cry, shaking as his cock erupted in Snape’s mouth. He could feel Snape’s throat working to swallow, compressing the already-sensitive head of the cock. Shuddering, Harry collapsed back on the bed, still quaking with aftershocks from coming so hard.

“Your enthusiasm is very sexy,” Snape smirked, still nuzzling Harry’s cock.

“Oh fuck, your mouth is very sexy!” Snape’s tongue swiped over the head of his cock again and Harry shuddered again. “That tickles!”

“Does it?” Snape did not sound surprised. Nor did he stop doing it.

“Oh God especially now that I've come! Stop!” Harry’s bladder was reminding him that he hadn’t been to the bathroom since he woke up, a matter to which Snape’s mouth was giving some urgency. “I have to go to the loo!”

With a small sigh, Snape released his cock. “Perhaps I’ll join you.”

“In the loo?”

“You did say you wanted advanced lessons.” With another smirk, Snape went back to licking Harry’s cock.

Oh fuck -- maybe Snape had seen those wicked pervy thoughts in Harry’s mind even without proper Legilimency! Harry whimpered softly. “What can you possibly teach me about taking a piss?” he asked, hoping Snape would assume the quaver in his voice was from nervousness and not excitement.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever taken a piss with someone else, have you? Would you let me hold your prick?” Once again, Snape kissed it.

“Fuck! If you actually want to!” Maybe Snape was as wicked and pervy as Harry -- he was making Harry writhe on the bed with those maddening touches to Harry’s cock, and he was actually grinning. Harry’s cock felt very odd, like it would be getting hard again if it didn’t desperately need a piss. “Just, oh God, let me up!”

“Oh, I do want to.” Snape’s eyes were dark and glittering, and he made no move to shift his weight off of Harry’s legs, even though Harry was now struggling to get free. “Shall I show you?”

“Please fuck just hurry I'm about to --” As Harry said the words “-- wet myself,” a jet of piss sprayed out of his cock, splashing across Snape’s chin. Harry cried out in mortification, but Snape only continued to grin, rubbing the wet chin over Harry’s cock.

“Looks like you may not make it to the loo.”

This was utterly humiliating, but at least it wasn’t Harry’s fault. “Oh fuck, I told you that tickled!” he moaned as another burst of piss escaped.

“Suppose l don't mind if it tickles?” It looked like Snape was _playing_ with the piss, rubbing his cheek against the head of Harry’s cock, which Harry knew was about to --

“Oh God I’m going to do it all over you!” The yellow stream gushed out, hissing unmistakably in the quiet room, soaking Snape’s hair and the side of Snape’s face as Harry groaned -- partly in embarrassment and partly in relief.

Snape had closed his eyes when the piss poured over his face, but he didn’t look disgusted. He looked rather blissful. “Does it appear that l mind?” he asked, tilting his head to get his neck even wetter, licking a drop from the corner of his mouth.

“No! Oh fuck! Looks like you're enjoying it!”

“And mmmmm tasting it,” Snape agreed, parting his lips as the spray splashed across them.

“Fuck! You look incredibly wicked!” Some part of Harry’s overwrought mind expected to be scolded for saying _fuck_ so much, even as his piss was trickling out on Snape’s neck and chest. “And you make me feel like a total pervert!”

Snape moaned softly, kissing Harry’s cock again. “I very much like you as a total pervert.” Immediately Harry decided that he wasn’t sorry to be a total pervert if he could make Snape look so very eager for his cock, which was twitching again, now that he no longer desperately needed to empty his bladder. Even though the sheets were soaked and the bed smelled like piss. “l feel a bit wicked myself.”

“I think you're very wicked! And oh fuck I'm getting hard again!”

Of course, that wasn’t news to Snape, who only smirked. “It must be time for more lessons,” he said. “Roll up a bit and lift your knees and let me lick you clean.”

“But I'm covered with piss!” said Harry, feeling that he ought at least to make a show of protesting, in case Snape was testing to see exactly how much of a pervert he was.

“Haven’t you noticed that l don't mind? Do you mind very much?”

Blushing, Harry shook his head. He didn’t want to protest so much that Snape wouldn’t continue these particular lessons? “Doesn’t it taste disgusting?” he asked nervously.

“It tastes salty and strong -- you need to drink more tea. With sweetener.” Snape smirked again. “It’s rather sexy when it’s fresh.”

If Harry had had any intention of feigning revulsion, his cock would have denied him the opportunity, throbbing as it did against Snape’s mouth. “Fuck!” Harry said again as if it were a magic word and not a Muggle profanity. “Would you let me -- watch you?”

“Watch me licking you?”

“Oh fuck. I meant, you know. Watch you piss.”

A slow, wicked smile crept across Snape’s face. “If you would enjoy it.”

“I would.” Though he was pretty sure Snape wasn’t using Legilimency at the moment -- and though he was blushing furiously -- Harry wanted it far more than he wanted to be able to pretend he wouldn’t enjoy it, even if that, too, made him a total pervert. “I would enjoy it so much. You could piss on my cock!”

That got Snape’s attention. He moaned. “You would let me do that?” He looked so eager and wicked at the same time that Harry thought he had never seen anything so arousing -- not even the time he’d wandered into the Adults Only section of Flourish and Blotts and seen his first gay porn magazine.

He wriggled in eagerness. “I think it would be really hot,” he admitted. “If you don’t think it’s disgusting.” The bed did not smell disgusting -- just tangy and sexy -- nothing a simple cleaning spell wouldn’t take care of.

Snape rubbed his face against Harry’s cock and moaned again. “I don’t think it would be disgusting at all, if we both want it. The only question is whether I am too hard to piss just thinking about it.” He squeezed his eyes shut as if shutting out erotic images as a shudder went through him.

Harry’s initial shame had changed into something far more arousing. He wiggled again, his cock bouncing against Snape’s mouth as he did. “Come press against me and you can do whatever you like!”

That seemed to startle Snape, as though he had not expected Harry to agree so readily, but it didn’t stop him from scrambling up against Harry, tugging his softer cock against Harry’s decidedly not soft one. “Even --” His eyes fluttered shut again as though he were about to cast a non-verbal spell, and Harry felt a jet of something hot and wet splash him. “Even this?”

Arching off the bed toward the source of the wicked wetness, Harry groaned. “Ohhh fuck, that’s so hot!” He made sure he was watching when another yellow jet soaked his cock. He could feel it running through the already damp hair nesting his cock and down behind his balls.

Snape’s mouth opened, but for a moment the only sound in the room was the wet hiss from his cock. “Do you -- oh God! -- think so?”

Nodding Harry thrust against him to prove it. “Yes, yes,” he chanted, feeling shameless and wicked and connected to Snape in a way that felt more intimate than the sex they’d just had. “Making me so hard!”

Fingers clenched into Harry’s arm as the heat and wet slowed, though Snape was still thrusting against him. “Never dreamed you would be so wicked,” Snape gasped, speaking low and urgently against Harry’s cheek.

They were moving together, thrusting into the puddle they’d both made. Snape shook his head, and Harry said, “Never dreamed you’d want me.” He groaned as their cocks shifted, aligning against each other. “Oh fuck! Like this!”

Harry was too hard and too horny to think about anything as rudimentary as technique. All he knew was that it felt good to rub against Snape and Snape must have thought so too because they were both rocking against each other. “Never thought I could have you in any manner,” Snape said.

“Want to --” Harry began but Snape draped a leg over his and pushed both cocks into the slickness between them and they both groaned. “Want to come with you!”

Snape was nodding, echoing the statement with a thrust. “Keep touching me like that and you will.” They moved together, frantically, though Harry could imagine a time when they might be able to draw this out, the being wicked part and the getting hard part. Right now, there were too many erotic possibilities crowding into his mind, things he had never considered before.

“Want to rub you with my...with my piss-covered cock!” he said, suiting action to words and amazed at his own boldness.

“If you say such things, I will never last! Rub against me!”

Harry obeyed, not that he could have done anything else. “It’s not like I can help going off like fireworks with you.”

Snape’s fingers loosened, now that their legs were tangled. His hand roamed over Harry’s back, along his hip, fingers brushing over the rounded curve of Harry’s arse. “Love being able to arouse you and make you come!”

Harry’s cock twitched hard at that. “Oh God, when you say things like ‘arouse’ it makes me come!”

This seemed to please Snape greatly or at least their thrusting did. “I can see your erotic education is going to require intense study.”

Harry could still smell the piss soaking the sheets but also the scent of arousal and sweat and of Snape who had lain beside him all night. “I know it’s intense -- fuck!” The intensity overwhelmed him in a flood of lust and semen as his predicted fireworks shot through him, sending him toppling over the edge of arousal.

He hung onto Snape who groaned and pushed against Harry. “So good, oh love --” but his words changed to a shout when he bucked against him and came in Harry’s arms.

Harry held him, feeling both sets of limbs trembling. They were still pressed together, still moving slightly. Harry said, “I love it too. Love when you get so hot from me coming that you come too!”

“Having you come just for me is very arousing. And knowing you let me piss on you may be the most arousing thing ever.” In addition to being breathless, Snape sounded slightly dazed.

“You can do it again. We can have lots of tea and spend the afternoon pissing together if you want!” Snape groaned against Harry’s face. “I want to rub our cocks together and piss all over each other at the same time. I want to do everything that makes you feel good!”

“l can see that you're ready for truly advanced lessons -- and advanced wickedness.” Harry had never imagined hearing such approval in Snape’s voice when calling Harry wicked. “Being with you and knowing you desire me makes me feel better than l've ever felt.”

“That must be why that spell of yours sent you here. Though I don’t see how it could have known we’d end up pissing on each other.” Harry giggled a bit. “Oh -- I promised to feed you! Let’s have some breakfast...” He glanced at the bedroom clock, both of whose hands were pointing sternly to _OVERSLEPT!_ “Well, maybe let’s have some lunch. And tea. Lots of tea. I’ll make it.”

“Didn’t you say you had house elves?” Snape looked amused at the thought of Harry cooking for him. “Don’t you trust them in the kitchen?”

“I want to cook for you. I’m not rubbish at it -- Aunt Petunia made me do most of her cooking. Though I suppose we’d better clean up first. Will _Scourgify_ work?”

“Try it and see.” As Harry was reaching for his wand, Snape’s hands stroked over his chest. “It pleases me that you don’t mind touching me like this.”

“I’m just as wet as you are. And I like feeling your fur!” Harry wriggled against the damp hair on Snape’s belly before he cast the spell, which left the bed, and both of them, dry and smelling reasonably clean.

“I'm not as fit as you,” grumbled Snape.

“You look good to me. And have a big cock.” Blushing a bit, Harry admitted, “And I love how your arms feel around me.”

He expected Snape to make some sort of remark about how Harry was obviously soppy after sex, but Snape only slid his hands up Harry’s sides and around his waist. “Like this?”

“Oh God, yes.” For a moment Harry didn’t trust himself to speak; he was afraid he would say something truly, unforgivably soppy and Snape would feel compelled to mock him. “Is -- is that all right?” he asked finally.

“I never dreamed that you would desire me like this.” Snape still sounded entirely approving, so much so that Harry was afraid he was misunderstanding -- he had never before heard Snape delighted. “If you will allow me to, I will teach you everything I know about pleasure.”

“You mean it? No more talk about how I'm too young for you?”

“Not unless you decide l'm too old for you.”

“Not going to happen. I want to be with you. Love being the one to make you come!” Harry squeezed him exuberantly. “And I want you to be the one to make me come. The only one. If you’ll teach me how to make love.”

Somehow that phrase, rather than any of the others, put Snape on alert. He sat back a bit, looking wary. “You mean intimacy, and sex.”

“I -- I guess so.” Harry felt rather let down. “Is that all there is to it?”

“I am not the correct person to ask. l know a little about sex and nothing about love. You’re the one who is supposed to be such an expert in love that it saved you from the darkness -- Dumbledore always said you had a great capacity for love.”

Harry opened his mouth to explain that actually he didn’t know anything, particularly about romantic love, which until this morning had always felt remote and possibly unattainable. He didn’t think he’d ever really been in love with Cho, and when he was honest with himself, he knew that a lot of what he loved about Ginny was the possibility of sharing her family and sense of humor and the things they both did well, from Quidditch to defensive spells. Being with her had made Harry feel comfortable, but that was completely different than what he felt now with Snape.

And he wouldn’t have traded this for anything.

“You'd know if you loved someone, wouldn't you?” he asked. “That’s all I know. To recognize love when it’s there.”

Snape nodded slowly. “l think l would,” he said. “But l would be uncertain about saying such things for fear that l'd read too much into another person's attentions.”

“Don't you think it would be better to say something than risk never knowing? If I’ve learned anything, it’s not to wait to tell people, because you never know when they won’t be there any more.”

Something flickered in Snape’s eyes. “Perhaps if l had a kiss first...for courage.”

They stared at each other a moment longer. Harry said, “How about if I kiss you and tell you you’re the only man I ever want to make love with?” He moved closer, their knees brushing. He felt very brave, braver than when he’d faced danger and death, because he was choosing this, and being chosen by the man he wanted.

“I would kiss you back, “ Snape said, swaying slightly on the surface of the bed. “And tell you how happy that makes me and that I would like to spend my life making love to you.” He looked astonished that he had spoken so much, but he didn’t look like he wanted to take any of it back.

Harry flung his arms around him and they both toppled back onto the sheets. Harry was laughing, full of a delight he had never suspected he could feel. “Let’s do that then,” he cried, matching words to action. “Let’s keep kissing and make love and just --” He kissed Snape, or Snape kissed him. They were so close there was very little difference. “Just love each other.”

Mouth moving against Harry’s, Snape said, “And learn how to please each other.”

Harry didn’t bother to mention that everything they’d done had been exciting and pleasing. He already knew that he loved the way Snape looked with piss streaming out of his cock, and that little flicker in his eyes just as he was about to kiss Harry.

And he really liked kissing. A lot.

“Let’s go have lunch and we can please each other some more after,” Harry said, tugging Snape’s hand. They both heard someone’s stomach rumbling, and decided it must be both bodies demanding nourishment. As he slid off the bed, he realized Snape looked almost like -- he was, he was blushing a bit, as if the idea of making plans ahead of time to come back to this bed and make love pleased him.

Harry got out slippers and robes for them both, though he had to transfigure the short one he’d found for Snape into something longer because, despite Harry’s reassurances, Snape balked at the idea of leaving the room being less than covered from neck to toe. Before they went downstairs, however, Harry dismissed the house elves, since Snape had made a point of saying he wanted Harry all to himself.

They padded down the curving stairway and Harry explained about the castle’s renovations. “The kitchen has a grand old stove and a stone floor. It’s as big as my Aunt Petunia’s whole ground floor.”

Harry had checked the day before that the groceries he’d ordered had arrived, pleased too that the house elves had packed everything away. There were even sparkling new bottles of wine in the iron wine rack set into one of the cabinets.

Snape looked around, tugging a bit on his robe belt. “Is this actually a castle?” His fingertips brushed over the stones of the arched doorway.

Harry nodded, standing beside him in the doorway. “It’s been refurbished, but the land’s been in the same family for centuries.” That had been in the brochure. The last wizard to live here had never married and left no close relatives. The castle had sat empty a few years while it had been made ready to be sold. Harry, according to the land agent, had been the first person to whom they had shown the castle.

Snape, however, was wrinkling his nose. “Not the Black family?” he asked with caution.

Harry laughed and explained what he’d read in the brochure. “It’s been well cared for,” he said in satisfaction. “Just needs --” He stopped and nudged his hip against Snape’s. “Someone -- or someones -- to cherish it again.”

They stepped all the way inside the kitchen while Snape looked around. “Do you still own the house in London?” he asked, seemingly unaware that Harry was watching him.

Harry nodded when Snape looked back at him. “I haven’t had time to do anything with it, though.” He was probably going to put it in trust for his godson, Teddy, who had a closer blood claim on it than Harry did. “Do you mind?” he asked, feeling uncertain again. Snape had mostly bad memories of that house and its former owner.

Snape was shaking his head. “The spell sent me here, to you. Not to your house, but to you.”

Harry leaned against the counter, wishing for a moment that he had Hermione to tell him more about this spell that Snape had used. “Do you think that’s a good thing?”

They were standing close again, facing each other as they leaned against the counter. Snape’s smile made Harry want to drag him back to bed -- possibly never to leave it. “It has been so far,” he said, stroking a finger down Harry’s cheek.

To keep himself from grabbing Snape and kissing him, risking starvation for them both, Harry broke away, rummaging next to the stove for a pan. “You said the spell sends you someplace safe, right?” he asked, running water in the pan.

Still leaning against the counter, Snape nodded. “That’s the purpose of the spell. It sends the caster to the safest place for them.” He looked around the kitchen again. “Though I have never heard of the caster being dropped naked into someone else’s bedroom.”

Grinning a bit at the memory, Harry filled the pot with water and put it on the burner, which lit automatically. He set a knife to work chopping vegetables while he sorted out the noodles. “You didn’t seem very happy to see me when you woke up.”

“I expected you to hex me.” With a small chuckle, Snape leaned against the counter. “I was confused and disoriented. I didn’t even remember casting the spell.”

Harry never ceased to marvel at how quickly water boiled on magical stovetops. He put the noodles into the pot, stirred them a couple of times, then walked over to Snape, pushing his robe aside a bit to inspect his neck. “Do you remember healing this? Because it’s just a bit pink and swollen. The last time I saw you, it looked ghastly. I was positive that you were dead -- I’d have brought help if I’d thought there was any chance. Even if you’d taken Draught of Living Death or something, I was sure you’d lost too much blood to survive.

Snape frowned, his brows furrowed. “I don’t remember casting any spells to heal the wound. I had taken to keeping a bezoar in my robes at all times, and consuming anti-venins as a precaution.” Gingerly, he touched his own throat. “There is a replenishing component to the bezoar, but I don’t remember swallowing it. I'm not certain how I survived.”

“That spell you used must have been very powerful to have transported you all the way here like a Portkey. Maybe it thought healing you was part of the requirement.” Harry kissed his neck next to the scar before turning back to the pot, stirring the noodles. “You should teach it to me. Just in case.”

“And pray you never need it.” Snape was standing very close behind him, hovering protectively, as if Harry was working on a dangerous potion instead of putting salt into boiling water for lunch. Harry leaned back against him, snuggling briefly, as Snape wrapped his arms around Harry and said, “This is the safest place I've ever been.”

“Other than starving you to death. Let me cook this -- go see if there’s any wine you want with spicy noodles and veg.” Uncle Vernon had always insisted on the blandest possible foods, and now that Harry was allowed to experiment, he found he preferred exotic flavors from parts of the world that had made his aunt and uncle suspicious. While he drained the noodles, Snape found a bottle and went looking in a drawer for a corkscrew. “This would be easier if I had a wand.”

Harry remembered all too well that Snape had not tried to defend himself against the giant snake. Had he even had a wand then? “I didn’t see it in the Shrieking Shack. We'll have to get you a new one.”

“That may take some time. I’ll have to use Polyjuice.” Though Snape sounded irritated, he made a small noise of victory as the cork popped out. “You’ll have to disguise yourself as well. I don’t guess you’ll have much privacy for the next -- well, ever.”

Harry had come to that same unfortunate conclusion. He’d got used to people staring at him in shops and at Quidditch matches, but he never wanted to read another Rita Skeeter-type expose about his life. “Maybe I could put on a hood. Or I suppose we could use a spell,” he said, stirring the veg and nuts into the noodles.

“You don't like to be Polyjuiced?”

Snape was looking at him through the wine in the glass, which distorted Snape’s face when Harry looked back. “I don't want you to look like someone else,” Harry said. “I like the way you look.”

“You do? But I'm --” Snape looked down at himself.

“Yourself.” Harry grinned, running one hand up Snape’s arm while stirring sauce into the noodles with the other. “I waited a long time for you to appear in my bed, though I didn’t know exactly what I was waiting for, and even if I had, I never would have thought it would happen _that_ way.”

“I suspect you lead a charmed life, and I was saved not by my own spell, but by whatever magic has preserved you.” Snape sounded a bit envious, but mostly happy. “We may never know exactly how it happened.”

“Then let’s celebrate!” Turning with the pot of noodles, Harry leaned up for a kiss. “Every day. Starting right now.” He smiled as Snape brought the wine glass to his lips, letting Harry taste the slightly sweet wine he’d chosen to go with the spicy food. “We should have chocolate. I’ve heard that helps in recovering from almost everything.”

“Except a bellyache from too many sweets,” said Snape, but he was smiling as well as he got down bowls for Harry to put the noodles in. “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

“Suppose I had the chocolate _on_ my belly...”

Though he muffled a small moan, Snape said, “No more talk of sex until after we’ve eaten,” pointing sternly at the table and carrying the glasses of wine while Harry brought the noodles, fruit, and sharp local cheese. Harry didn’t argue; he was very, very hungry, and for some reason, standing around cooking with Snape made him just as happy as lying around kissing Snape. Maybe because he hadn’t once been told to stir counterclockwise or corrected on his ingredients.

Apparently Snape appreciated Harry’s cooking more than he had ever appreciated Harry’s skill at Potions, though he was probably just too hungry to care, and Harry made sure his wine glass was never empty. “I was hoping we could use Confundus or something if we went out,” Harry said between bites. “Or memory charms. I'll use Polyjuice if you really want, but that takes a month to brew, right? I doubt you want to be without a wand for that long.” He’d seen some old wands on display in one of the castle’s rooms, but he wasn’t really certain whether he owned those -- if the wand chose the wizard, they might not work for himself or Snape.

“For today I believe I would prefer to recuperate,” Snape said between sips of wine. “Though I should repay you for this meal.” As he spoke, Harry felt toes sliding up his leg, nudging beneath his robe to tickle his thigh.

“Oh fuck! You don’t have to, you know, repay me with sexual services.”

“But I'm quite anxious to perform all manner of services for you.” Snape was smirking, and Harry suddenly had to know whether Snape was hard under the table -- as hard as Harry himself had suddenly become.

Without further warning, Harry wiggled under the table, gathering his robe around his knees to keep them off the hard stone floor. There was plenty of room underneath as he slid closer to the only pair of knees he was interested in. He pushed Snape’s robe aside -- it was already coming loose from rubbing his foot against Harry’s -- and nuzzled along one thigh. “It might take a lot of servicing,” he said lightly, kissing along the inside of his leg.

A hand pushed under the table and Harry tilted his head to accommodate Snape’s fingers, letting them push into his hair. “As it happens,” Snape said, letting his knees fall open, “I am no longer employed and am recuperating at the home of my lover, and have lots of time to practice.”

Harry immediately liked the way Snape said _lover_ , though he admitted he liked pretty much the way Snape said anything, especially when Harry was kissing closer to his bollocks. He accepted the open invitation of Snape’s thighs and trailed his kisses over the softly furred balls, nuzzling at the gratifyingly hard prick in between. Snape moaned at the first flick of Harry’s tongue and slid a bit lower in the chair.

“Sounds like a very decadent life,” Harry agreed, pushing his face against the shaft to feel how hard he’d made Snape.

The diversion worked. Snape whimpered and shifted in the chair, his fingers clenching tightly in Harry’s hair as he thrust toward Harry’s mouth. “I feel I’ve earned it,” he said when Harry obligingly gave the tip another lick, “since I’ve spent the last few years spying, at great personal risk, against the forces of evil.”

For some reason, when Snape spoke while having his cock sucked, Harry got really turned on. Okay, even _more_ turned on. “What about your lover?” he asked, rubbing his face in the hair curling around the base of Snape’s cock. “Was he sitting around eating chocolate all that time?”

Harry felt a slight movement and thought Snape must be shaking his head. “Oh no, my lover is a hero,” came the words. “He vanquished the forces of evil, though his sole reward was a much older lover with a shady past.”

Harry grinned, then wrapped the grin around Snape’s cock, letting his mouth get used to the shape before licking the head again, tasting the salty fluid that welled up. “That sounds like a pretty good reward,” he replied. One finger rubbed the back of his neck as Harry continued his explorations with his tongue.

“As long as he is -- oh fuck!” Harry smiled that he could make Snape lose his composure, what little composure they both had during all the love making they had indulged in. “P-pleased with it,” Snape managed, “his lover will do anything for him.”

Harry figured out how to use his hand and mouth in tandem. “So pleased,” he murmured, taking a gulp of air before diving back onto Snape’s cock.

Snape clutched the back of his neck, making little movements in the chair that made Harry feel certain all their practice was paying off. “His lover is about to --” Snape moaned, his legs trembling where they bracketed Harry. “About to come!”

The only reply possible to that was to suck enthusiastically.

“My God, Harry, fuck, oh fuck,” Snape moaned. Hard flesh pushed into Harry’s mouth but he hung on, keeping his tongue moving and hardly breathing for all the concentration he was using. He heard the scrape of the chair as Snape bucked off of it, felt the tightening of fingers in his hair just as Snape cried out his name again and flooded his mouth with come.

Harry kept his mouth in place, managing not to gag and being quite pleased that he hadn’t. There was a trick to it; they just had to practice a lot more. Judging from Snape’s nearly boneless posture in the kitchen chair, practice sessions would be on the schedule as often as possible. He let the softening cock slip out of his mouth before the keeping it there would cause pain instead of pleasure. He was humming a bit, listening to the gulping breaths above.

Snape peered under the table at him. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was a bit mussed as though he’d run his fingers through it, an idea which pleased Harry even more as it bespoke again the unconscious sexiness Snape displayed when he gave into it. “You really are quite wicked!” he panted.

Grinning, Harry nuzzled his thigh. “What did I do that was wicked?” He tried to keep his expression innocent. “Compared to what we did this morning, I thought sucking you off under the table was pretty romantic.”

The thigh moved away as Snape pushed the chair back, but only so he could lean down and kiss Harry. “Can't it be romantic and wicked at the same time?”

Snape was smiling too; Harry could feel it against his mouth. “Mmm,” he said, thinking as he kissed back. Having Snape’s cock dangling naked inches away from him, right here under the table, was making him feel particularly naughty. “You could be wicked and romantic at the same time. Say, if you squatted over me and had a piss...”

He felt the shape of Snape’s mouth curve into a smirk. “Right here? In the kitchen?” Snape asked as though Harry had proposed making a particularly difficult potion.

With a small moan, Harry wriggled out from under the tabletop. “It does have this easy-to-clean stone floor,” he pointed out, gesturing around them.

Pushing away from the table, Snape let his robe slide off. He had always seemed tall and imposing to Harry, but he looked particularly so standing naked over Harry, peering down at him with the expression that had always meant Snape knew exactly the wicked thoughts in Harry’s mind. “And I've had all that wine,” Snape drawled.

Harry spread out own robe and lay back on it, cock twitching. “I made sure you did,” he admitted. “So...” He let his voice trail off in a moan.

Snape straddled his legs, gazing down at him. “Are you certain? I won’t be able to stop.”

That was exactly what Harry was hoping for, to see Snape shamelessly wicked and out of control. He was trembling slightly in excitement. “Oh fuck! I'm going to come just like this with your piss spraying down on me!”

Kneeling, Snape fanned his fingers out across Harry’s hip. “Then I'll lick you clean,” he growled, putting his hand on his own cock, and a moment later, Harry watched the gold fountain spray out of it, splashing hot and hard over his thighs and cock.

“Oh fuck!” Harry wailed, hips bucking off the floor. “That feels hotter than anything!”

“You were correct,” Snape said, aiming over Harry’s cock and watching his piss run down it. “This does feel romantic as well as wicked.”

He looked surprised, and also extremely satisfied, but Harry couldn’t concentrate much. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, right on my cock, oh God I’m --” The hard spray was putting pressure on Harry’s cock and running over his balls, it felt better than almost anything. He arched up and wailed in pleasure.

Snape reached for his cock, stroking him, still pissing down on him and watching with an expression that bordered on delight. “Yes, come for me!” he ordered. Harry shuddered hard, bucking into Snape’s hand, watching Snape’s piss trickling out on his own fingers. If there was anything more intimately wicked than this, Harry couldn’t imagine what it might be. With a cry, he jerked his hips off the floor, spurting over Snape’s fingers.

Snape moaned softly, slowing his hand on Harry’s cock, still touching him. “That's...amazing,” he said in the most reverent voice Harry had ever heard him use.

“Ohhfuck,” panted Harry, still twitching in his fingers. “Can't help it when you do that.”

Slowly Snape raised his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers. He smiled at Harry. “I’m afraid I very much enjoy being wicked with you.”

Watching him, Harry moaned blissfully again. “I love doing everything with you. Want to keep on doing them.” He leaned up mindlessly, trying to kiss Snape, heedless of the sticky fingers between them. Snape’s tongue flicked over his mouth, tasting salty and bitter and better than anything because it was Snape’s. “You taste messy. You marked me all over!”

He felt Snape shift to rub their cocks together. “Then you should return the favor,” Snape whispered conspiratorially. “Right here, since you have these nice stone floors.”

Shivering, Harry watched the cock rubbing his own before realizing that watching might make him too hard to do what Snape had asked, even so soon after coming. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, focusing on muscles that usually relaxed naturally, but that was usually standing over a toilet, not sitting on his own kitchen floor with Severus Snape panting against him. Even with all the wine he had had, his bladder did not want to allow him to misbehave right here on his kitchen floor. He pictured Snape doing it to him, smirking as he let go...then he moaned as his cock squirted out a jet of piss.

Everything about this was utterly obscene. The sound of the spray as it spattered across Snape’s skin, the pungent smell of it, his own mingling with Snape’s, the way his body felt when breaking its own taboos all combined to make Harry feel as though he was committing an obscene act. Obscene and delightful. He never wanted to stop, never wanted to stop hearing the desperate noises Snape made when he pushed his fingers into the stream. They both watched, fascinated, as the piss flowed over his skin.

“Mark me!” Snape said, with the unmistakable air of command. Unlike any instruction Snape had given him in class, Harry desperately wanted to obey this one, and not just this once.

The stream gushed out over Snape’s outstretched hand. “Oh fuck, I’m not sure which is more wicked, doing this by accident in bed, or doing it on purpose like this,” Harry moaned. He thought he couldn’t be shocked any further, stooping over his own kitchen floor pissing on one very alive, very eager Severus Snape, but then Snape stuck out his tongue and stuck it right into the stream.

“Just as long as you always want to do such things with me,” Snape groaned, fluttering his fingers back over Harry’s cock to wet them again. There were yellow droplets on his legs and his cock and his belly, glinting in the thick hair nesting his cock. There was a puddle on the stones beneath them running into the earlier one left by Snape, pooling under Harry’s feet and Snape’s knees.

Hips jerking, Harry pressed his cock against Snape’s hand, letting the stream flow over Snape’s palm, still watching the gush of yellow liquid. “Yes, as often as you want!”

Once his fingers were soaked, Snape rubbed them over his face, smearing it over his lips, his cheeks, down his neck. Harry groaned and the stream jerked, starting to slow. Snape’s eyes closed but he was smiling, sucking on his fingertips. “Yes, want everything with you.”

This made Harry shiver, the words and the wickedness of what they had done. “Want -- want to be the only person you do this with from now on,” he moaned, straightening his knees once the last drop had sluiced over Snape’s skin. The kitchen was a mess and smelled worse, but Harry had never been happier.

That is, until he noticed the spots of color in Snape’s cheeks. “You are the only person I’ve done such things with, or said such things to.”

Delight rose up in Harry’s chest. “Really?” His toes splashed over the puddle. “I thought when you were --” His gaze darted over Snape’s mouth. “When you were drinking it that you must have done it loads of times.”

He let himself be dragged to his knees, wetting his knees and shins but pressing against warm skin and an eager mouth. “Not with anyone else.”

It took Harry a moment to understand what this meant, as he wrapped his legs around Snape and settled against him. “Then I'm -- oh fuck! You mean you've done it yourself?”

Snape’s arm wrapped around Harry’s neck, bringing his face close. He was already flushed from what they’d been doing, but Harry was certain he blushed a bit more. “Yes.” Grinning, Harry kissed him, thinking that the taste -- at least, off Snape’s mouth -- wasn’t as bad as he’d have expected. “You did say that I was wicked. Though it feels much more wicked with you.”

Harry laughed and kissed Snape again. When he’d been a student, he’d always felt vaguely guilty around Snape, even when he knew he hadn’t done a single thing wrong -- Snape had always looked at him as though he knew Harry was up to something, and once Snape had started teaching him Occlumency and had access to Harry’s thoughts, Harry was sure every small infraction he’d ever committed had been laid bare. Now, ironically, he felt less wicked than he ever had around Snape, although he’d just done the most shocking, perverted thing he’d ever imagined.

“At least we managed to eat this time before being wicked,” Snape said, chuckling.

“Did you get enough? I’m not starving you, am I?” In a momentary fit of anxiety, Harry wondered whether this was, in fact, the safest place for Snape to be while he was recovering. “There’s, um, nothing in piss that would interfere with whatever potions you took to keep you alive, is there?”

Snape stole another kiss before sitting up, keeping Harry close. “You are not starving me. You’re taking better care of me than I deserve. Urine is sterile and does not interact with any of the ingredients in any of my anti-venins.” He smirked a bit. “I suppose I should test the piss of the Chosen One for special magical properties against an attack by the Dark Lord’s serpent.”

Harry wondered whether he owed it to Snape to explain that Nagini had been a horcrux. Perhaps that had something to do with Snape’s recovery; with the horcrux destroyed, whatever poison had been left in Snape’s body might have been purged. “You saved my life,” he reminded Snape, peeling his wet robe off the floor. “Maybe you’re my Chosen One.”

Snape looked undeniably pleased at this. “You saved the world from the Dark Lord, which would seem to make us even at least.” He surveyed the mess they had made of the floor. “And now I suppose I owe it to you to clean this up.”

“And each other,” Harry added, smiling. “Though since I’m the one with the wand...” He pulled it out of the drenched pocket of the robe and made the puddles disappear, then set the sink to work on their dishes. “I think we had better have a shower,” he told Snape. The robe was dry now and didn’t really smell bad, but it didn’t really smell good either, which Harry suspected was true of himself as well.

“I would like to wash you,” Snape agreed, giving Harry a look that made Harry more than eager to let Snape touch him, with or without soap in his hands, anywhere Snape wanted.

“I want to wash you too.” He kissed the back of Snape’s hand, leading him to the stairs, depositing their robes in the alcove that held the self-scrubbing washboard. “I want to get used to getting clean with you because I loved doing what we just did.”

“Good, because I would very much like to do it again.” Snape followed him to the loo and watched as Harry turned on the water. “Whenever you would like, as often as you would like.”

Stepping under the spray, Harry picked up the soap, turning to smile at him. “Then we won't ever stop,” he agreed. “You'll come to London with me when I go back?”

Snape studied Harry for a moment, but then he nodded. “Yes. Even if I have to go back into Black's house,” he agreed.

Floating the soap back into its holder, Harry rubbed foamy hands over Snape’s chest. “Can't you think of it as _my_ house?” he asked. “We can change everything inside it if you want. I’ll burn down the wall with the painting of Sirius’s mother if I have to.” He’d already called in a couple of favors at the Ministry to figure out what to do about the portrait of Mrs. Black.

Nodding again, Snape helped wash down his back. “As long as there's a bed inside and a working loo, I shall endure.”

“Oh, there's a working loo.” Harry smirked at him. “We can redo the whole thing in black if you want. Or yellow, if that would be more practical for our recent activities.”

Chuckling, Snape turned him and slid to his knees to wash Harry’s legs. “We can come here at the weekends?” he inquired.

“Definitely. I haven’t even shown you most of the castle. Or the grounds. Or the loch.”

“There’s a loch?” Snape looked intrigued, letting Harry help him to his feet. “Does it have a loch monster?”

“Not that I know of,” laughed Harry, helping rinse the bubbles off Snape’s belly. “But I haven’t had much time to explore. The grounds are reportedly haunted, so for all I know Loch Assynt has a terrible monster who’ll want to drink our piss...”

Snape laughed as Harry had never heard him laugh before, genuinely delighted and utterly at ease. “You’ll have to let him know that you are now the master of this castle,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I suggest dressing up in a proper kilt and sporran and marching out in your knee boots to tell him who is in charge.”

Harry thought it was probably a novelty for them both to rub each other with big fluffy towels. He liked how focused Snape was on the task, yet lingered in places Harry thought were probably dry already. On impulse Harry Summoned his wand and transfigured the towel into a passable kilt. Snape was smiling -- an expression that looked especially sexy when he was naked -- as Harry held it up to himself. “It’s not exactly Gryffindor colors, but it’ll do,” Harry said, letting the pleats sway against his shins.

Snape had his head tilted, studying the effect. “You’d look better in Slytherin colors anyway.” He started to “help” Harry into it, which involved a lot more arse fondling than Harry suspected the average kilt took to put on.

“Green makes me look seasick,” replied Harry. He concentrated on the other towel. “Let’s see you in a green one.” The towel shifted quite eagerly, sending out shoots of several shades of green, a bit of yellow and blue, and a lot of black, shaping into a kilt.

Nodding at the spellwork, Snape held up the kilt before stepping into it. “Bare legs feel very odd.”

Harry thought that sounded a bit like an invitation. He rubbed his toes up one of Snape’s legs. “The fresh air will feel good.”

To Harry’s delight, Snape swung his hips, making the kilt swing around his knees. He had a sudden vision of both of them in some private spot, dressed in kilts, surrounded by their friends and flowers and not a loch monster in sight.

“You look like you could use some fresh air yourself,” Snape said, bending to peer into Harry’s face. “You’ve gone pale.”

It was so clear, the image, that Harry had to focus a moment when he realized Snape was only wearing a Transfigured kilt and not the snowy white shirt and proper kilt he’d been wearing in Harry’s vision.

“I think you’d better sit down,” Snape said more firmly, guiding him to the toilet, lowering the lid with his foot and holding Harry until he sat down.

“No -- I -- ” Harry began, smiling tremulously, keeping his grip on Snape’s hand.

“You’ve become dehydrated,” Snape decided, untangling their fingers as he moved to the sink.

“No,” Harry tried again, then felt color rising in his cheeks. “Well, yeah, probably.” Snape handed him a cup of water and waited until Harry had drunk it before he let him continue speaking. “I think I know why the spell sent you here,” he said once he’d finished the glass of water.

“Well, it is a castle,” Snape replied, not protesting when Harry wound their fingers together. He knelt down, still looking concerned.

“No, I mean why it sent you to me here and now. It’s not just the safest place for you. It’s the safest place for each other. All I wanted to do a few weeks ago was get away -- be alone.” He felt Snape’s fingers tighten on his. “Maybe we were meant to heal each other.”

He half expected Snape to make some remark about the therapeutic benefits of urine, but he was silent for a moment after Harry’s declaration. “Magic like that is...long lasting,” Snape said finally.

“Permanent, probably,” Harry said, nodding. “We shouldn’t risk messing with a really powerful spell like that.”

Snape was smiling again, though to anyone else it would have only looked like his mouth had changed shape slightly. “Wouldn’t want to break the protection.”

Harry moved his foot, wriggling his toes under the edge of Snape’s towel-transformed kilt. “I don’t think I need fresh air right now,” he said. “I think what I probably need is to go back to bed. I’m sure the loch monster will wait, since we have that safety spell on us.”

The corners of Snape’s mouth curved into a smirk. “But I’m certain I saw a monster in your bed.”

Grinning, Harry let his toes brush over Snape’s cock beneath the towel. “Me too, and I’m hoping I might get to see it again. Don’t worry -- I’ll let it know who’s master of the castle.”

Snape laughed again, and stood, helping Harry stand up, even though Harry was feeling fine...in fact, much better than fine. Better than ever, really. “Monsters are notoriously disobedient,” he warned.

“Then it’s a good thing one of us has experience giving out detentions. I’ll explain to all my friends that I might not be around much because I’ve been given...” Snape had stopped smiling, and Harry frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Your friends will think I've bewitched you or cursed you. I shall let you be sociable and wait for you in the bedroom.”

“My friends know me better than to think I can be bewitched that easily!” Harry snorted. “And if we’re supposed to keep each other safe, I think that means putting up with each other's friends.”

“You will have the easier job, then, since I have no friends.”

Harry wasn’t ready to give up on that vision of the two of them with their friends around them. “That is not true. You had lots of people crying over you,” he said. “McGonagall was really sorry she didn't trust you -- Slughorn too. And, not that I ever want you to invite him over here, but Lucius Malfoy was miserable too...I think at this point you may be his _only_ friend.”

Snape looked thoughtful. “Not that you ever want me to invite him over here?” he repeated. “What about getting on with _my_ friends, if the Malfoys can be called that?”

Rolling his eyes expressively, Harry tugged off his kilt-towel and tossed it over the rack by the door. “All right. I'll be civil to them,” he said. “But if I hear the word ‘mudblood,’ I'm hexing their arses out the door.”

Chuckling, Snape removed his own modified towel. “Agreed. And if hear the words 'greasy' or 'git' from any Weasley, I'm allowed to do the same.”

“I'll make sure you're not greasy. I'll wash you myself.” Smirking, Harry led Snape into the bedroom. “I'm pretty sure Ginny suspects I’m not really attracted to women, and she probably told Ron, and he probably told Hermione, so it’s not like they can blame you for turning me gay.”

“It's one thing to be attracted to men and quite another to be attracted to _me_.” Snape chuckled, but it sounded mirthless. “They won't like it.”

As he sat on the bed, Harry shook his head. “They know whose side you were really on. And Hermione thinks you're brilliant -- she always thought I wasn't giving you enough credit.”

Snape looked surprised by this, but then he smirked again. “I _am_ brilliant. I wound up here, didn't I?”

Wriggling a bit, Harry shifted to make room for him. “I’m not sure that should count. You didn't know what would happen.”

“I used the proper spell and it brought me to you. I'd say that was brilliant.” Snape’s leg slid alongside Harry’s. “I shall try not to hex your friends if you try not to hex mine.” Harry opened his mouth to agree, but he interrupted himself with a yawn. “In the meantime, I believe we both need more rest.”

Harry thought that he should be taking care of Snape rather than vice versa -- _he_ hadn’t been bitten by a poisonous snake -- but he did not object when Snape shifted him down against the pillows. “Just a little nap,” he sighed. “Then we can go see the loch.”

“Eventually,” Snape agreed. “If you wake up as rumpled and sexy as you did this morning, however, I may not let you out of bed right away.”

Harry couldn’t help grinning. “But what if I need to use the loo?”

Smirking, Snape wrapped his arms around Harry, squeezing him. “Somehow I think you'll be wicked, Mr. Potter.”

“Only for you. Love being wicked for you...” Harry wriggled very happily, then added, “...Severus.” He paused. “Tomorrow I want you to teach me how to make love.”

He knew what Snape was going to say before Snape said it: “You already know how to make love.”

“You know what I mean. If you want that. In case that safety spell needs to be sealed, or something.”

He felt Snape shiver against him. “You mean consummated. I want that more than anything -- want you to fuck me.”

Harry couldn’t help moaning. He’d been trying to be romantic, but Snape saying _fuck_ like that was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. “I want that more than anything too,” he agreed. “Besides wanting you to stay here with me.”

“I was sent here,” Snape said softly. “Obviously I was meant to stay here with you. For as long as you will have me.”

“That would be forever, then.” Harry snuggled against him. “I’m yours -- you even marked me.”

Snape laughed a bit. “I have never examined the magical properties of that particular act.”

“We can study it together, then.” Yawning again, Harry wriggled closer. “I wasn’t bad at Care of Magical Creatures -- I’m sure I can take care of you.”

“And I you.” He felt Snape’s hum vibrate his hair. “I’m afraid it may become a habit...like being wicked.”


End file.
